


Second Chance at Forever.

by pendragonally



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Domestic Fluff, Don't Judge Me, Established Relationship, Fluff and Humor, How Do I Tag, I Don't Even Know, Light Angst, M/M, Reincarnation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-19
Updated: 2020-10-19
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:54:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27109060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pendragonally/pseuds/pendragonally
Summary: Merlin spent centuries dreaming of the day Arthur would return. Now he's back by Merlin's side where he belongs. Sometimes though, Merlin worries he's still dreaming.
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 15
Kudos: 141





	Second Chance at Forever.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone!  
> I've finally decided to be brave and post my very first merthur fic!  
> This silly little thing wouldn't leave me alone until I wrote it down.  
> I wrote it all in one go to please excuse any mistakes haha.  
> Please go easy on me, I'm a little (a lot) nervous and I know this is probably a bit of a tired trope now but it's new to me and I really hope you enjoy it! ♡
> 
> **Additional warnings (just in case) for very brief mentions of Arthur's death, and the scar the wound left him with.**

*****

It’s still an odd feeling sometimes, Merlin thinks, waking up to the warmth of Arthur next to him — beautiful and alive and _here_ — instead of dreaming of waking up to Arthur next to him.

Months have gone by since Arthur finally returned, a day that Merlin both scarcely recalls the details of and remembers in vivid detail. Fifteen hundred years, and Arthur is finally his to hold— finally his to _love_.

The lush greens of summer have given away to the fire reds of autumn, and Arthur is sleeping beside him on a Sunday morning that’s closer to lunchtime than actual morning.

It’s mornings like these that Merlin sits in bed and watches Arthur sleep. Revels in the flutter of his eyelids as he dreams, the way the low hanging sun filters through the gap in the curtains, falls across Arthur’s face and gives his blonde hair the appearance of a halo on the pillow.

He’s gorgeous, always was, and now more than ever Merlin finds himself fascinated by everything that Arthur does simply because he’s alive to _do_ it.

Arthur never comments, even on days like yesterday when Merlin wandered into the bathroom when Arthur was shaving, took a seat on the toilet lid, and just _watched_ him. Arthur wasn't annoyed by it, had smiled fondly when he’d finished and Merlin stood to wrap his arms around him from behind, marvelling at the sight of their reflections in the mirror.

Side by side, just like they always should have been.

Today, Merlin finds comfort in watching the steady rise and fall of Arthur’s chest, still in awe of the fact that he’s here and _breathing_.

It hasn’t been easy. There have been fights and denial, Arthur’s nightmares as he struggled (still struggles, some days) to accept what is and adjust to the new world that surrounds him as well as the relationship they’re building— different from before but in many ways still the same.

It’s overwhelming and terrifying and everything they’ve ever wanted but could never have. Not then, it wasn’t the right time.

But the right time is right here, in this year, in this moment— Fate and Destiny have deemed it so. What they have is soul-deep and _forever_.

They both know that now.

“Merlin, are you watching me sleep again?” Arthur’s voice breaks Merlin’s thoughts, low and lovely the way it always is when he’s just waking up.

“No,” Merlin smiles and shakes his head though Arthur’s eyes are still closed. “I’m watching you wake up. The two things are completely different.”

Arthur opens his eyes then and Merlin is left breathless at the way they catch the light and shine like blue diamonds— precious and rare just like the rest of him.

He’s something to be treasured and protected always.

“I’ve never heard so much rubbish in my entire life,” Arthur laughs and Merlin is so in love he feels light-headed.

“Sure you have, you’ve heard yourself speak haven’t you?”

Even with his magic thrumming just beneath the surface of his skin the way it always does when Arthur is close by, Merlin’s reflexes aren’t quick enough to dodge the pillow that Arthur pulls out from under his own head; it hits him square in the face.

Of course Merlin throws it back, smacks Arthur in the chest with it a few times for good measure before handing it back and letting Arthur push himself up to rest against the headboard.

The movement has the blankets sliding to Arthur’s waist to reveal his bare chest and the silvery scar that cuts a jagged line into Arthur’s side. It’s the only scar from before that Arthur returned with. It’s a permanent reminder of the battle at Camlann.

A permanent reminder of the time that Merlin’s magic failed to protect the one thing he’d been born to keep safe. From a day so far in the distant past the memory is barely more than grains of sand in a long forgotten hourglass but still, Merlin remembers the _feeling_.

He remembers feeling broken open, raw and bleeding, remembers that no matter what he did or where he went, after losing Arthur he never felt whole again. Not completely.

Not until now, when the Universe granted him another chance.

“Merlin,” as always Arthur notices his sudden quietness, shifts closer until he’s pressing soft kisses into the top of Merlin’s arm to get his attention. “Merlin, love, where did you go just now?”

The quiet endearment makes Merlin smile, though he knows it’s turned down at the edges when he pushes Arthur away slightly and reaches out to run his fingertips over the scar. “Back to that day in Camlann,” Merlin tells him honestly because there’s no secrets between them. Not anymore. Not this time. “Back to the day my magic failed us all and I lost you. So much power… and I lost you anyway.”

“That’s in the _past_ , Merlin, I’m here now aren’t I? Look at me Merlin,” Arthur demands softly when Merlin can’t meet his gaze. “I’m here now and I’m not going anywhere. I promise.” Merlin sighs into the kiss Arthur pulls him into, the familiar heat of Arthur’s mouth sending all thoughts of morning breath and other such nonsense barrelling straight out of the nearest window. “You’re magic didn’t _fail_ anybody, do you understand me? It was my time to go—"

“It shouldn’t have been!” Merlin hates how choked up he sounds, hates how the past keeps dragging him down when Arthur is _back_. “It shouldn’t have been your time, Arthur and now? I’ve been waiting so long for you I’m afraid I’m going to wake up and realise I’m still dreaming.” He wonders if he looks as stricken as he suddenly feels. “I’m not dreaming, am I?”

Arthur shakes his head and takes Merlin’s hand, presses it first against the scar, then to his chest, over the strong beat of his heart. Merlin tries not to whimper. “None of that matters because you’re still _here_ . You’re still here and now I’m here too. You’re not still dreaming, Merlin, I’m right here beside you. We shouldn't waste our second chance at forever by dwelling on a past we cannot change. And even if we _could_ , I wouldn’t want to. I can’t remember dying Merlin, but I _can_ remember that you were with me. You held me in your arms until the very end and because of that —" he pauses, wipes away a lone tear Merlin hasn’t even noticed is falling. “Because of that, love, I died at _peace_.”

“But my magic—"

“Your magic is a beautiful part of who you are, Merlin. We've been through this,” Arthur smiles, brings Merlin’s hand up from where it’s trembling against Arthur’s scar to kiss each of his fingertips in turn. “I’d like you to show me, please.”

Merlin frowns. “Show you what?”

“You _know_ what,” Arthur says, presses a kiss to Merlin’s palm.

Realisation dawns, and Merlin cups both of his hands together, shivering when Arthur closes his hands around Merlin’s. “ _Blóstmá_ ,” he whispers, knows that his eyes have flashed gold when he sees the look of awe on Arthur’s face.

Opening his hands to reveal a single, tiny rose the scarlet colour of Camelot, Merlin can’t fight the heat that crawls up his neck onto his face. “For you, Arthur.”

“No, Merlin,” Arthur murmurs, closing their hands back over the delicate bloom. “For _us_.”

When Arthur brings their lips together then it burns with the intensity of a forest fire at the same time as soothes like the still, calm water of a mountain lake. Merlin smiles into the embrace and feels rather than hears Arthur whisper _that’s better_ and _no more tears._

“I should get up, shower…” Merlin murmurs against Arthur’s mouth a long while later but doesn’t pull away, keeps kissing him over and over simply because he _can_. “Get dressed and do something… productive,”

“Kissing me is productive, is it not?” Arthur pushes Merlin backwards, further down into the soft sheets, rubs their noses together and kisses him again, the rose abandoned in the sheets somewhere when Arthur brings his arms up to hold him and Merlin automatically does the same.

Merlin huffs a laugh that makes Arthur smile in return. “Not as productive as you like to think it is,”

“Perhaps, but you should still stay right here for a while, I’ll go downstairs and make breakfast.”

“Am I hearing things or did you just say you’re going to make breakfast?”

“Stop telling jokes Merlin,” Arthur pouts and Merlin can’t help but kiss him. “You’re not funny,”

“I’m hilarious and you know it,” Merlin grins. “And besides it’s no laughing matter— this is serious. Arthur Pendragon, the once and future king of Camelot is going to make breakfast in bed for his _servant_.”

Arthur rolls his eyes but he’s smiling, cheeks flushed pink as he nuzzles into the juncture where Merlin’s neck meets shoulder. “I am not the king of Camelot anymore,” the words are followed by soft presses of Arthur’s lips against Merlin’s skin. “And you Merlin, are not my servant.” He raises his head then, kisses Merlin properly. “Not anymore. You’re my equal and I shall love you as such.”

Heart inflating to at least twice its normal size and filling with more love than once person should be capable of feeling Merlin smiles, ruffles the still golden mess of Arthur’s hair as his insides squeeze in response to the way Arthur still speaks sometimes— an echo of a life shared more than a millennium ago.

“Arthur Pendragon is also a hopeless romantic— a _sap_ even.” Merlin teases when Arthur finally pulls away and climbs out of bed. “Reincarnation suits you, sire.”

Tugging on black trousers and a scarlet red, long-sleeved t-shirt with a deep V-neck cut into it, Arthur still looks every bit the legendary king he used to be.

The king Merlin has loved for more than a thousand years.

“Merlin?” Arthur’s voice lilts in question as he heads to the bedroom door, and Merlin smiles because he knows what’s coming next; he can _feel_ it the same way he could all those centuries before. “Shut up,”

A moment of quiet passes between them then, tears in their eyes again because this is familiar. This is natural—

This is _home_.

Arthur smiles, soft and fond, nods at Merlin in silent understanding before disappearing out of the door.

“Arthur?” Merlin calls, heart skipping when Arthur pokes his head back around the door a second later, his blue eyes bright in the late morning light. “I love you too. Always.”

“I know Merlin, I know.” Arthur clears his throat before they both do something embarrassing like start properly crying the way Merlin always does (and Arthur pretends not to) whenever they’ve watched a sad film. “So, pancakes?”

Merlin nods. “Pancakes.”

When Arthur leaves Merlin settles back into the bed, stares at the ceiling and smiles, thanking the powers that be for finally, _finally_ bringing Arthur back to him.

“Domestic bliss,” he mumbles to himself in recognition of the calm that has settled inside him for the first time in his incredibly long life.

“Merlin! I need backup!” Arthur’s yelling shatters Merlin’s daydreaming. “The pan is smoking! We may need magic to rid us of it!”

Merlin laughs. So much for domestic bliss— Arthur is always going to be a domestic disaster.

“Merlin!”

A second chance at a life with Arthur is all Merlin has ever wanted; all he’s ever dreamed and wished for in all those years spent waiting for him to return. A chance to be able to love him in all the ways he never could before.

“M _er_ lin!”

“Be right there Arthur!” Merlin shouts, already out of bed and pulling on the nearest boxer shorts and t-shirt from the pile of clean laundry in the corner that neither of them has tidied away yet (that are actually Arthur’s and not his at all).

His wish has finally been granted; smoking pans, reincarnated dollopheads and all —

Merlin isn’t going to waste a moment of it.

*****

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know what you thought and thank you so much for reading! ♡


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